


Didn't Know I Was Broken

by alcoholandregret



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Draft, nolan has anxiety, vines as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:35:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcoholandregret/pseuds/alcoholandregret
Summary: Then, there's Nico Hischier, and suddenly everything isn't so clear.Nolan or Nico? the articles ask, their bold letters mocking him every time he opens his laptop. He can't close the tabs. They keep cluttering up his browser, and there's so many of them now, and his computer is actually slowing down because of it and he can't help but laugh bitterly at that. He's slowing down because of it, too.But it's fine, he's fine, and he is getting better, slowly but surely. It's all good.





	Didn't Know I Was Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5osPtE7kXI)

It's been bad for a while, now. Nolan can't exactly place when it started, but he knows it's getting worse more than it's gotten better. He's heard the term 'slippery slope' thrown around a lot in regard to, like, habits and stuff. Now, he doesn't know anything about that, but he does know that, apparently, it works the same way for mental things.

Well, kind of. Maybe.

All he knows is at some point things started feeling wrong, like the world around him started suffocating him, almost. Like, sometimes he’d be fine one second and then the next every single atom that’s ever existed ever is squeezing him, like it wants him to pop. It started like that and from there it snowballed into whatever _this_ is. He doesn't know. He doesn't tell anyone about it. It's fine.

He manages.

Being out with the hernia in his draft year is less than ideal, especially when scouts have been putting him as a for-sure first overall prospect. He could find comfort in that, most days - in that he didn't seem to be at risk of falling too far because of something he couldn't control. Also, it's not like he _has_ to go first. He'd be okay with anything, really, getting drafted alone is a huge dream of his.

But now it's on the table, like _really_ on the table, so much so that it's almost - no, definitely - expected of him by many people, and that's stressful on its own.

He can't play, can't prove them right. He has to sit, and watch, and recover.

Seems easier said than done.

Then, there's Nico Hischier, and suddenly everything isn't so clear.

 _Nolan or Nico?_ the articles ask, their bold letters mocking him every time he opens his laptop. He can't close the tabs. They keep cluttering up his browser, and there's so many of them now, and his computer is actually slowing down because of it and he can't help but laugh bitterly at that. He's slowing down because of it, too.

But it's fine, _he's_ fine, and he is getting better, slowly but surely. It's all good.

He's only had three - whatever the fuck they are this week. Maybe _only_ isn’t the best word. It isn't normal, he knows this, but again, it's fine, he's fine, and if sometimes he can't breathe and it feels like his body is going a thousand miles an hour for so reason, then that's just how his life is. He can accept that for what it is. He has an inhaler from that time he had pneumonia and it helps sometimes, even if his brain still screams _wrong wrong wrong_ after his breathing comes back.

It's fine.

He makes the Top Prospects Game roster. So does Nico. It shouldn't be surprising.

He can't breathe, and all he can think is _not good enough not good enough_ , but he comes down from it an hour later, so it doesn't really matter.

It isn't that long before he's cleared to play after that. He gets four points in his first game back, and it's good. He's good. There was nothing to worry about.

Other than the loss of 35 games.

Half a season.

Nico didn't miss any. He got to play.

Nolan can't breathe again, suddenly.

The Top Prospects Game comes around a lot quicker than he'd prefer, because now he has to actually properly _face_ Nico, like, in person, and he kind of hates it. He kind of hates _him_. It's fine, though. He can be good.

They're both captains, so they have an entire photoshoot to do, and frankly, Nolan would rather do literally anything else, but he understands that he has to. He takes his inhaler before he leaves his hotel room, just in case.

He's going to need a new one soon, it seems.

The worst thing about Nico, he finds out as they laugh their way through the stupid poses they're being put in, is that there is not one bad thing about him. It's like he doesn't know that they're supposed to be rivals or whatever the media's calling it. Competition? Whatever. He likes Nico.

The game is fun, it turns out, and he ends up exchanging numbers with a lot of the guys on his team. He ends up exchanging numbers with Nico.

He doesn't really talk to many of the other guys that often, but he and Nico stay in touch. It's really nice, actually, and they end up getting along really well. It makes the whole Nolan or Nico ordeal easier to bear, sometimes. Other times, though, he can feel the panic creeping up on him, because he worked so _hard_ and it might not be enough. Now when it starts to happen, he calls Nico, who, if he notices that he's short of breath or that his words tremble, doesn't mention it. It helps a lot.

Their seasons end sooner than he'd like, and now he's out of distractions from the draft. It's objectively really fucking horrifying.

He spends more time on the phone with Nico than he probably should.

Nico knows something is up, he can tell, but he doesn’t mention it, and neither does Nolan. Well, not until around a week before the combine.

Recently he’s been trying to keep his shit to himself and not keep bothering Nico every chance he gets, but it’s been a half an hour and his inhaler didn’t do anything and this time there doesn’t even seem to be a reason this is happening this time, so he can’t even try to bring himself down from it. Nico answers right away. He always does.

“Hey, Patty.”

“Hey, Nico,” he says, but just barely. It comes out kind of like he’s gasping for air, which, he guesses he is, and the giant lump in his throat certainly isn’t helping. Nolan knows he sounds like he’s crying, which, like, he _is_ , but that’s fine.

There’s a quiet sigh on the other end. “I’m worried about you, Nolan.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Okay,” Nico replies, and Nolan knows he doesn’t believe him. He lets the subject get changed anyway.

It happens again before he leaves, but he doesn’t call Nico, just bites down on the ear of an old teddy bear and tries to fall asleep. It works, mostly.

They share a room at the combine, and it’s honestly the best thing he could have hoped for. He missed Nico a lot, in spite of talking to him more or less constantly since they’d met. The sentiment seems shared, considering Nico hugs him the moment he walks in the door. If it lasts a little longer than it maybe is supposed to, well, there’s no one around to tell. It’s fine.

It’s fine until it’s not.

Nico went into the bathroom to start getting ready to go to sleep like, five minutes ago tops. It feels like everything is hitting him all at once and it’s overwhelming in every sense of the word. The room feels like it’s collapsing in on him, so he curls up and presses his knees against his forehead. Breathing is almost entirely out of the question by the time Nico comes back out of the bathroom.

“Nolan?”

He hates this, hates that it’s happening _now_ , when Nico is right _there_. Like, yeah, this has happened when they’ve been on the phone, but no one - _no one_ \- has seen him like this. Ever.

He knows he’s crying - he can’t exactly feel it, but his knees are wet and his nose is running, so that’s a safe bet.

“Hey,” Nico says, softly, sitting next to him on the bed. “Nolan, look at me.”

He doesn’t want to, _really_ does not want to, but he slowly raises his head, and Nico looks scared for him, and he starts gasping for air, because now he _really_ can’t breathe.

“Inhaler-” he reaches in the general direction of his bag, but makes no move to actually get up. Nico nods and hurries over to it, digging through it until he finds the little red inhaler.

Nolan takes it gratefully and takes as deep a breath as he can before he takes two puffs, letting it fall into his lap. After what feels like twenty minutes but was probably not even two, his breathing feels like it might be close enough to normal that he takes another deep breath and doesn’t feel like his lungs are empty after it.

He sighs.

Nico hasn’t left his side since he got back with the inhaler.

“Is touch okay?” He asks, and Nolan just kind of looks at him and nods. He slides over so he’s next to Nolan and wraps his arms around his shoulders, holding on tight.

It helps, like, a whole fucking lot. They just sit there like that and Nolan places a hand on one of Nico’s wrists once he feels like he’s good. He’s fine.

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened.”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

Nico moves and firmly grabs him by the shoulders, making Nolan face him. “Please stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying to you,” he insists. “It just happens sometimes. It’s _fine_.”

“It’s not _fine_.”

His chest feels like it’s starting to get tighter again, and a glance at the back of his inhaler says he only has 4 more puffs left in it, so he really can’t fucking afford for this to happen right now. He just shoves at Nico’s chest until he gets up and goes back over to his own bed. Nolan lays down and curls up facing the wall.

He can feel his friend’s eyes on him until he turns off the light. After a couple minutes, he looks over and sees Nico is facing the other wall, and they’ve not been in the same room in so long, but it feels almost like they’ve never been further apart.

It takes forty minutes for Nolan to get up and slide into Nico’s bed beside him. It takes four seconds for Nico to roll over and pull him in against his chest.

“I think I have a problem,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Nico kisses the side of his head, and that’s that.

He’s not fine, it turns out.

He tells himself it’s fine, though. He’s lived with it, and he can keep living with it.

The combine goes well, all things considered. The only time he felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown - or whatever those things are, he still isn’t even sure - was when he saw Nico at the top of the board for pullups and he failed to match it. He reminds himself it isn’t a competition - they’re _friends_. He tells every person that asks him, and so does Nico.

It feels like it lasts for forever, and he’s exhausted by the end of the day. They get ready for bed despite it only being a little after eight, neither particularly wanting to do anything more than just sit around and share each other’s company. Nolan pulls his shirt on and goes to sit on his bed, but Nico lifts up the covers beside him, so he sits next to him instead.

Nico puts an arm around his shoulder, and he leans into it, and it’s just really nice. They can’t find anything interesting on the TV, so Nolan gets up to get his laptop, balancing it on one of his legs and one of Nico’s once he gets settled again.

They debate over what movie to watch for twenty minutes before Nolan ends up just putting on a playlist of vine compilations, and it’s probably the most content he’s been in a while. He doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating - or in danger of it - at all, and it’s been a long time since he’s felt like that, he thinks. He just likes Nico, like, a whole lot. To the point that he’s not overly upset that he saw him like that - beyond feeling bad for literally pushing him away. He’ll probably apologise for that later.

Nico laughs at whatever vine that Nolan had missed completely, too lost in his own thoughts, and he looks over at him and-

Yeah. He likes Nico a whole lot, but it’s definitely more than he thought, which is kind of-

_‘Hi, welcome to Chili’s!’_

“Can we make Casey do this?”

-overwhelming. It’s overwhelming.

“I fucking hope so.”

“Me too,” Nico nods, and he looks at Nolan, and Nolan can’t look away, and like, he really fucking wants to kiss his friend. He’s probably imagining it, but he could have sworn Nico looked at his mouth. Whatever.

His smile is warm, and it makes Nolan’s stomach tie itself in knots at the same time it makes his chest feel full.

It’s kind of a moment of realisation, like, where it really sinks in. He’s known, obviously, on some level that whatever has been going on with him isn’t normal, but he was handling it in his own way. But the _concern_ Nico has had for him really was the final nail in the coffin for knowing that this is bad.

“I want to get better,” he says, not meaning to say it out loud.

_‘Bitch I hope the fuck you do.’_

He slams his laptop shut and presses his forehead against Nico’s shoulder, and both of them are silent for a moment before they start laughing.

“Hey, that’s good to hear,” Nico says once they calm down, gently cupping Nolan’s cheek and lifting his face up to make him look at him. “I’ll be with you.”

His hand is warm against Nolan’s face, and he looks so fond, and Nolan asks to kiss him before he can stop himself, and Nico nods, and his brain can’t catch up fast enough, but he’s kissing Nico. He’s kissing Nico and he still doesn’t even know what exactly is going on with his head, but he’s ready to work towards finding it out. It’s a big step, he thinks.

Nico pulls away and rests their foreheads together, and he’s laughing a little, just a little breathy thing, but before Nolan can even ask, he grins and says, “ _road_ work ahead?”

Nolan shoves his face away, but he’s laughing too.

“ _Yeah_ , I sure _hope_ it does.”

**Author's Note:**

> I put my spotify on shuffle bc I wanted to write and this was the first song that came on so,, angst. Sorry Nolan
> 
> catch me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/alcoholnregret) and [tumblr](http://www.sidnate.tumblr.com)


End file.
